Don't Ever Let it End
by ScruffyLovin
Summary: Post "Solitudes." Jack and Sam spend some unexpected time together during Thanksgiving weekend. Hurt/Comfort, Holiday, UST to RST, Friendship, Romance, Whump
1. Part One

**Summary: **Jack and Sam spend some unexpected time together during Thanksgiving weekend.

**Timeframe: **Post season one's 'Solitudes.'

**Characters/Pairing: **Jack/Sam, Daniel, Janet

**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort, Holiday, UST to RST, Friendship, Romance, Whump

**Rating: **PG

**Started: **Nov 10, 2010 **Finished: **Jan 9, 2012

**Don't Ever Let it End**

**Part One**

Daniel slowly pushed the door to the private infirmary room open and stuck his head inside. "Jack? You ready to go?"

His friend was sitting on the edge of the bed, a pair of crutches on either side of him, and his right leg encased in a full cast that stopped about mid-thigh barely touching the hard floor. "Get me the hell outta here, Danny boy." Jack pushed himself up with a grin, balancing on his good leg and using his crutches to hobble forward.

Daniel felt a smile spread across his face. "I hope you realize that Janet's only springing you early because you're driving her and the medical staff nuts." He walked in to grab Jack's care bag from the doctor which his friend had _conveniently _left on the bed.

"Hrmph." Jack snorted. "You call this letting me go early? I've been stuck here for two and a half _weeks_, for cryin' out loud."

Eyebrows hitching upward, Daniel just shook his head and held the door open so Jack could hobble through. "Jack, on top of the broken leg you had severe hypothermia and internal bleeding. You almost _died._ Did you expect Janet to let you loose the day after your surgery?" he retorted.

Jack grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and disappeared down the hall without waiting for Daniel.

Rolling his eyes, Daniel followed after him, his natural strides easily catching up with Jack's slow hobble.

Sam was there when the elevator doors opened, and Daniel greeted her with a friendly smile. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey Daniel, Colonel." She smiled tightly, her eyes quickly drifting to Jack. She absently waved toward him while stepping out of the elevator and holding the door so he could hobble inside. "How's the leg, sir?" Sam asked, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"Oh, fine." He blew out a breath. "Just fine, Carter." Jack sent her a little nod as he balanced himself.

"Glad to hear it, sir. Well, have a good holiday; you too, Daniel," Sam managed to get out before the doors closed.

"Holiday?" Jack gave Daniel a look, his brows furrowed deeply with confusion.

"Ah, yeah, Jack. You know, _Thanksgiving_? It's in two days." Daniel couldn't believe that his friend had forgotten. Well, okay, Daniel thought after a moment, seeing genuine bewilderment on Jack's face. Maybe he _could_ believe it.

"Oh, right. Yeah, Thanksgiving," he muttered somewhat testily, staring at the elevator buttons as the car rose up from the bowels of the SGC.

.

"_Aggh…" Jack returned to consciousness as agony coursed through him, his broken leg screaming in pain, and his chest on fire. He tried to roll on his side, but something was stopping him from doing so. _

"_Colonel, don't." Gentle hands pressed down on his shoulders, then suddenly, the pressure was gone. _

_The familiar voice grounded him and his eyes opened slowly. "Carter?" he managed with little breath._

"_Yes sir." She was hovering over him, pale, with dark circles under her eyes, the scrape on her cheek looking more harsh under the artificial infirmary lights than it had in the dark of their ice cave. _

"_Y'okay?" Jack's eyes narrowed as his head began to throb in tune with the rest of his body. Carter's entire form took on an ethereal glow, and he wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing anymore. Wait, this isn't what happened, he thought to himself. "Carter…" _

"_Sir?" Her body shimmered oddly, almost like a hologram, and as Jack reached out a shaky hand to try and touch her, to make sure she was there, Carter was whisked away like a plume of smoke being sucked out of the room. _

"_Carter!"_

Jack lurched sideways in bed, his heavy, plaster-encased leg following the rest of his body more slowly. He groaned and reached down toward his leg, swearing softly under his breath as he opened his eyes. It wasn't pitch black out, but it wasn't exactly daylight either.

Squinting at the clock, Jack saw that it was just shy of sunrise. Knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, he sat up and pushed himself toward the edge of his bed, reaching for the crutches that were leaning against his nightstand.

Wearing just his boxers and a t-shirt, Jack felt a shiver run through him and hobbled over to the closet door where he'd hung his robe. Ever since he and Carter had returned from Antarctica, Jack was almost constantly cold. Doc Fraiser said that it was mostly psychological and would dissipate given time, but sometimes he wasn't so sure. Sometimes he felt like he might never get warm.

Balancing on one crutch momentarily, Jack struggled into his soft flannel robe and slowly hopped out of his bedroom. If he couldn't get back to sleep, he might as well go to the kitchen and work on keeping himself awake.

That was where Daniel found him two hours later, sitting at the kitchen table and nursing his third cup of coffee. The archaeologist shuffled in sleepily, squinting and rubbing his eyes before he pulled on his glasses.

"Jack, what the hell are you doing?"

"Having coffee. Want some?" Jack waved off toward the counter and the near-empty coffee pot.

Pulling a hand through his mussed mop of hair, Daniel ambled toward the pot and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, pouring himself a cup. "How long have you been up?" He sat at the table across from Jack.

"Where do you think Carter's going for Thanksgiving?" Jack asked abruptly, avoiding the question. He knew by the look on his friend's face that Daniel was thrown. He also knew the younger man would let it slide because he wasn't fully awake yet.

"Uh… Eh, I dunno." Daniel shrugged. "To see her family I would guess, but what do I know? I don't think I've ever heard her talk about her family."

"She's got a brother in San Diego. Niece and nephew," Jack murmured, sipping at the last dregs of his coffee.

Daniel's brows pulled together with confusion. "How do you—"

"She told me," Jack answered briefly, leaving it at that.

The sound of a cell phone ringing distracted Daniel enough that he didn't question Jack's knowledge of his 2IC's personal life any further. "Oh, that's me!" the archaeologist jumped up and ran into the spare room where his things were.

It was a few minutes before Daniel came back into the kitchen. Jack immediately noticed the conflicted look on his friend's face, and called him on it. "What's up?"

Daniel paced a little, then flipped his glasses up and down over his nose before coming to stand beside the kitchen table. "Ah, that was Dr. Keith Paulson from SG-7."

"Oh?" Jack rose an eyebrow and waved for Daniel to go on.

"He wants me to join him on an off-world dig this weekend. They found some ruins with writings that resemble the symbols we found on Cimmeria."

Jack just nodded at him, but he could see the sparkle of interest in the young archaeologist's eyes.

"You know, symbols of Thor's race."

Quickly losing his interest in this conversation, Jack heaved a sigh and said, "Yeah, so why don't you go?" Daniel grimaced, and Jack thought, _Here comes the kicker. _

"They're leaving tomorrow, on Thanksgiving."

"So?" Jack's brows furrowed. He obviously wasn't getting why that was such a big deal. "You're not doin' anythin'."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but I'm _supposed _to be keeping an eye on _you_."

"For cryin' out loud, Danny. I don't need a babysitter," Jack growled half-heartedly. He waved a hand in the air. "Go off-world and play with your rocks, will ya?"

Daniel still looked unsure. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jack cut him off before he could even start.

"I'll be fine Daniel."

.

Daniel left Jack's house mid-afternoon to pack. He'd told Jack he was just going to get his gear ready to leave in the morning and come back to Jack's place for the night, but Jack told him it'd be too much of a hassle and he should just sleep on base. Daniel finally agreed, but still wasn't feeling so sure about having left Jack on his own.

He was shoving the last of his gear into his bag when Sam poked her head into Daniel's lab, surprising him.

"Hey Daniel, what are you doing on base?"

Raising his eyebrows, he absently answered her. "Ah, I was invited to go on an off-world dig that I _really _didn't want to pass up." He smiled weakly. "Jack kinda insisted that I go." Daniel shrugged, then furrowed his brows slightly. "What are _you _doing here? I figured you'd be off with family or something."

Sam smiled tightly. "No. Actually, I just talked to Janet and she was supposed to go to her sister's with Cassie, but it turns out they all got the flu over there." She grimaced. "Janet's decided to just have Thanksgiving at her place and she invited me over. She asked me to extend the invitation to you and the Colonel if you guys didn't have plans. I was just going to call you."

"Oh." Daniel made a face and sighed, contemplating the offer for a moment before smiling. "Well, I'm sure Jack would enjoy the company. I mean, maybe you could keep an eye on him?" He looked at her hopefully. "I'm kinda worried about leaving him on his own with his leg and all, but if he was with you and Janet…"

"Okay," Sam agreed with a somewhat-uneasy smile. "I'll talk to him."

"Great." Daniel smiled swiftly and shoved one more thing into his pack. "Oh, and if he says no, get Janet to threaten to send him back to the infirmary or something." He smirked, and Sam laughed softly with a nod.

"Alright, well, have fun Daniel."

"Yeah, you too."

.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'!" Jack hollered from the lounge after several knocks sounded on the door before he could get himself to his feet. He groaned softly as he hobbled up the steps and toward the front door. Without looking out the window to see who it was, he pulled open the door, growling, "Daniel, go dig up your rocks, will ya? I'm gonna be just…" His mouth gaped open when he saw Carter standing there. "…fine," he finished lamely.

Carter smiled a little bashfully. "Um, hello sir."

"Carter." Jack lifted an eyebrow and shifted a little on his crutches, leaning more heavily on his good leg.

"Ah, I would've called sir, but I was on my way home and coming by this way anyway, so…" She shrugged awkwardly. "I figured I'd see how you were doing."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You talked to Daniel, didn't you?"

She smiled, and Jack felt his heart flutter just a little. "Yes, sir. But that's not entirely why I'm here."

"Oh?" He shuffled sideways and motioned her inside. It was cold out after all, and the chill was sinking deep into his bones.

Carter hurried inside and pulled the door closed behind her. She stood with him in the hallway, less than two feet of space between them. She pulled her fitted pea coat tighter around her and shivered. "Janet asked me to extend her invitation to join her and Cassie for Thanksgiving."

Jack ignored the discomfort of his crutches digging into his armpits as Carter explained about Janet's last minute Thanksgiving plans. He found himself staring at the floor, and when he looked up, realized that Carter was expecting him to give her an answer.

"Sir?"

Giving himself a mental shake, Jack sent her a crooked little smile. "Yeah, okay. I'll go I guess."

"Great." Carter smiled and then shifted awkwardly, looking like she didn't really want to leave.

In truth, Jack didn't want her to go. Since she'd been discharged from the infirmary a few days after their return to Cheyenne Mountain, he'd been left with this weird, empty feeling. He and Carter had developed a strong bond when they thought they were dying together in that ice cave. Without her around, he'd felt _off_. It was very strange, and Jack couldn't deal with the vulnerability; he wanted to be wherever she was.

Biting down on her lower lip, Carter opened her mouth to break the silence before he could. "Would you like some company tonight, sir?"

He looked up and sent her another crooked grin, trying to hide the relief he felt at her offer. Jack gave a short nod. "Sure, Carter." His voice was nonchalant, but inside his chest his heart was hammering away, thrilled that she was going to stay.

.

Sam couldn't believe she'd been so bold; couldn't believe he'd actually _agreed _to her staying. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she followed the Colonel's slow hobble back down to his lounge.

He gestured for her to take a seat in one of the arm chairs while he got himself situated on the couch. He sat down awkwardly and then lifted his plaster-encased leg up on the cushions, following it with his other leg and heaving a low sigh when he finally got settled.

Sam found herself staring at the Colonel's leg. He was wearing baggy black sweatpants that he'd managed to pull over the bulky cast. Sam remembered Janet telling her she'd done a good job setting and splinting the tib-fib fractures, but upon reviewing the Colonel's X-Rays, the doctor discovered that there'd also been a small fracture to his femur that they hadn't known about. O'Neill hadn't been too happy when Janet told him he needed a full leg cast and was going to be out of commission for a few weeks longer than he'd thought. He'd be lucky if he didn't still have the cast on by Christmas.

"It's not as uncomfortable as it looks," the Colonel quipped lightly, startling Sam out of her silent musings. He lightly tapped his cast, shifted a little, and grimaced. "Ah, yeah. Okay, it is."

Smiling tightly, Sam tucked a stray lock hair behind her ear. "Do you need your medication or anything, sir?"

"Nah, I'm fine, Carter." He waved a hand dismissively. Reaching for the remote on the coffee table, the Colonel's fingers scrabbled to reach it without leaning too far sideways so he wouldn't disturb his still-healing ribs.

Seeing his struggle, Sam got up and grabbed the remote for him, handing it over. "Here you go, sir."

He smiled sheepishly in embarrassment. "Thanks, Carter."

Sam relaxed back into the chair and turned her attention to the TV when the Colonel found an old football game and settled on that.

.

"Carter?"

"Hrm?" Sam opened her eyes and took a minute to focus, discovering Colonel O'Neill hovering over her, leaning on his crutches. "Sir?"

He smiled and gently reached down to tug at her elbow. "C'mon, Carter, it's late. I'll show you to the spare room."

Sam sat up, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. "Ah, that's okay sir. Maybe I should just head home. I'll pick you up tomorrow for Janet's?"

Something flashed in his dark eyes, and if she didn't know any better, Sam would have thought he looked…anxious? He waved a hand toward the window. "It started to snow about an hour ago. It's gettin' kinda bad out there. You…ah, you probably shouldn't drive. The plows haven't been by yet; roads'll be bad."

Sam looked at him with brief confusion as she stood. Did he not want her to leave? She didn't want to, but was afraid of what might happen if she stayed. Although, the thought of driving in the snow was not very appealing. She'd been rather cold-weather shy since their little stint in the arctic.

The Colonel turned and began to hobble toward the lounge steps. "C'mon Carter, it's okay," he insisted.

Feeling her heart flutter a little, she followed O'Neill out of the lounge and down the hall into a spare bedroom across the hall from his own. She stepped inside as he turned on the light. It was a very plain-looking room. One dresser and night stand, with a full size bed covered in a plaid comforter.

When she turned around, the Colonel had gone. Shrugging to herself, she pulled back the covers and started to situate the pillows the way she did at home. Sam kicked off her shoes and then turned around when she heard the unmistakable sound of O'Neill's rubber-tipped crutches on the hardwood floor.

He hobbled forward in to the room, then handed her the pair of old sweats and a t-shirt that he'd carried in over his shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Sam sent him a grateful smile as she took the clothes.

O'Neill quirked a lopsided smile and said, "G'night Carter," before slowly making his way out of the room, awkwardly closing the door behind him.

For a moment Sam just plopped down on the bed, staring at the clothes in her lap that undoubtedly smelled like him, and wondering what the hell she was doing here. But she still didn't want to leave. She wanted to be near _him_.

.

A thick layer of pristine white snow blanketed the ground, giving Jack's yard a serene Winter Wonderland look that would have been perfect on Christmas Day. But it wasn't Christmas Day, it was Thanksgiving, and Jack would have preferred not to have any snow at all. The cold was bad enough, making his mending bones ache.

He sat on the couch, wrapped in a flannel robe and covered in a big fleece blanket, both hands clinging to his warm coffee mug while he waited for Carter to wake up. His injured leg was propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, and the pain was muted slightly thanks to the handful of Tylenol he'd taken when he got up this morning.

Having not bothered to turn on the TV, Jack just sat quietly, sipping his coffee and relaxing. He was nearly finished with his drink and feeling a little drowsy by the time he heard Carter come down the lounge steps. He turned his head and noticed she had a mug of coffee in hand. Maybe he actually _had _dozed off for a few minutes because she'd gone into the kitchen without him hearing her.

"Mornin'," he murmured placidly, raising his mug in greeting.

Sending him a small smile, Carter shuffled over and took the free spot of couch to his left. Her shoulders hunched as she sat, and Jack could see that she was chilled in the t-shirt he'd given her for bed.

"Here." Jack unwrapped himself part way from his cocoon and offered her some of the fleece blanket he was covered with.

"Thank you, sir." Carter's cheeks flamed briefly as she accepted his offer, having to sit a little closer to him so they could share the blanket. Softly, she murmured, "Seems like I can never get warm enough."

Jack grimaced and nodded in agreement as he settled back again. "I know how ya feel." He and Carter both had the blanket pulled up to their chins, each with one arm sticking out to cling to their coffee mugs.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Jack reluctantly pushed the blanket aside and reached for his crutches to lever himself upright. "Gonna go wash up," he explained when Carter gave him a look. "Doc won't let me shower with this," Jack tapped his plastered leg, "so it'll take me a while."

Carter nodded with apparent understanding. She extracted herself from the blanket and got off the couch. "That's alright, sir. I need to head over to my place for a shower and some clean clothes anyway."

"Okay." Jack began to hobble to the steps. Glancing out the window, he was reminded that it had snowed the previous night. He turned back to Carter. "Take my truck. It'll get you through the snow, and if it's slippery out, just throw 'er into four wheel drive."

Carter looked hesitant. "Are you sure?" She obviously knew he didn't let just anybody drive it.

He nodded and sent her a reassuring grin. "Keys are hangin' in the kitchen and there's a snow scraper in the coat closet."

.

Sam drove home, showered and dressed, then returned to the Colonel's house in about an hour. She let herself in and took a brief look around, but didn't see her commanding officer in sight. She remembered him saying it would take him a while to wash up and dress—as he essentially had to give himself a sponge bath—but she thought he'd be done by now.

Cautiously heading down the hall, Sam reached O'Neill's bedroom and peered inside, seeing the door was wide open. "Sir?" She thought she heard something from the master bath and crossed the bedroom to knock on the door. "Colonel?"

"Yeah, Carter. I'll be out in—ah—I'll be out in a while." His voice sounded pretty hesitant through the wooden door.

"Sir, do you need some help?" Sam couldn't believe the words that had come out of her mouth. She wanted to bang her head on the door.

"No," was the frustrated reply, followed shortly by a reluctant, grated, "Yes."

Sam was momentarily startled by her CO admitting he needed her help. Suddenly, she was cursing herself for offering. "Can I come in, sir?" _Oh God, Sam, what are you doing? _she was mentally yelling at herself.

"Ah—hang on. Gimme a minute." There was a strained grunt, followed by a short clattering noise and the muted rustle of fabric. Then, about thirty seconds later— "Okay Carter, but be warned, I'm…underdressed, so don't get excited."

"No, sir." His teasing soothed some of her nerves, and Sam braced herself before pushing the door open and stepping into the bathroom.

The Colonel was standing awkwardly by the sink, one crutch under his left arm and a towel around his waist. He was clean shaven, his body was damp, some of his hair wet, and there was water all over the floor.

Sam couldn't help the path her eyes traveled from the edge of the towel, to his bellybutton—an inny, she noted—then following a trail of fine hair that went up his stomach to fade briefly before meeting a larger patch of coarse tawny hairs on his chest. She also noticed the fresh pink scar on his abdomen from surgery where Janet had to go in and repair the internal bleeding.

O'Neill cleared his throat, and Sam's eyes locked onto his face to see him looking a little embarrassed. "Havin' a little problem washing my hair," he said with a grunt.

Looking at him thoughtfully for a moment, Sam nodded and then said, "I've got an idea." He seemed open to anything that would get the job done, so she helped him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, throwing an extra towel on the water all over the floor so neither of them would slip. "I'll be right back."

Sam hurried to the kitchen where she found a plastic pitcher, then returned to the bathroom. "Can you lean back into the tub and tip your head a little sir?"

"Yeah, I think so." She filled the pitcher with warm water, and put a hand on O'Neill's shoulder to help steady him as he leaned back. She then poured the water over his head, soaking his hair before reaching for the shampoo.

"This is kinda nice, Carter. Ever thought of becoming a hairdresser?" the Colonel joked as she massaged the masculine-smelling Old Spice shampoo into his scalp.

"Well, I did at one point, but my dad threatened to disown me," Sam joked right back. She cracked a small smile, appreciative that most of the tension had eased away. It helped her not to focus on the fact that her very attractive CO was sitting almost naked in front of her and she was washing his hair like a newborn.

When she'd finished washing and rinsing, Sam helped O'Neill up and then left so he could dry off and get dressed in his room.

.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Wearing a plain black sweater over a white t-shirt, and some khaki chinos with the right pant leg cut off mid-thigh, Jack grabbed a pair of socks and then hobbled out of his bedroom. He could hear Carter in the kitchen and made his way there.

She turned around from the counter where she'd been putting their coffee mugs in the dishwasher. "You about ready to head to Janet's, sir?"

"Yeah, just gotta get my socks and…" he looked down, "_shoe _on." Snorting softly, he pulled out a chair and sat down with a grunt, leaning his crutches against the table.

Jack pulled his left leg up and pulled on the first sock, but when it came to putting one on the end of the cast to cover his toes that stuck out at the end, he discovered that he couldn't reach. "Dammit," he growled under his breath when stretching proved painful for his ribs.

"Here, let me, sir." Carter came forward and took the sock from his hand. She knelt down and carefully stretched the sock before covering his toes and managing to tug it over half of his foot over the cast.

"Thanks, Carter," he grunted his thanks as she stood back up.

"It's no problem, Colonel." She smiled brilliantly at him, her steel blue eyes full of warmth.

Now that his socks were on, Jack got up to find his boots—er, _boot_—while Carter called the doc to let her know they were on their way.

.

"Mom! Mom! Sam and Jack are here!" Cassie cried excitedly as she leaned back from the window and bounded toward the front door, her little dog hot on her heels.

Janet smiled at the eleven-year-old's enthusiasm. Cassandra had become quite attached to the four members of SG-1 since they'd rescued her from her decimated planet—Sam and Colonel O'Neill especially. Add that to the fact that the girl hadn't seen either of them since their little unscheduled trip to Antarctica, and Cassie was doubly excited.

Cassie let them in, standing back and holding onto Rowdy's collar to allow the Colonel to hobble in the door in front of Sam. Janet was pleased to see that the end of O'Neill's cast was wrapped in a plastic bag, preventing it from getting wet in the snow as he tried to keep it elevated while using his crutches.

"Glad to see you're prepared," Janet remarked with a warm, welcoming smile, gesturing toward the end of Colonel O'Neill's foot.

The Colonel grunted, stopping in the hall momentarily so Cassie could hug him. "Yeah, that was Carter's doing," he smiled crookedly and glanced back at his 2IC.

"I'm glad you're gonna be okay, Jack. I missed you," Cassie told him, slowly unwrapping her arms from around his waist and trying not to bump into his crutches.

"Me too, kiddo."

"Mom wouldn't let me visit you guys in the infirmary," the young girl murmured sullenly.

Jack's eyes briefly met Janet's. He sent her a small, reassuring smile. "Well, I was pretty out of it, kiddo. Slept most of the time. I wouldn't have been much good for company."

Cassie just shrugged and then went to hug Sam next, holding on a little longer. "I still woulda wanted to see you guys."

"We know, Cass, but it was for the best." Sam brushed a hand through Cassandra's hair and bent over to kiss the top of her head.

Janet noticed that Sam was holding a pie in her free hand. "Oh, you didn't have to bring anything. I know this whole dinner was such short notice."

"It's okay." Sam shrugged, then grimaced somewhat bashfully. "I didn't have time to bake, so we just stopped and picked one up on our way here. The little bakery near the Colonel's place was open. He said they have decent pies."

"He would know," Janet remarked with a laugh.

"Hey, I heard that!" the Colonel cried with mock indignation.

Sam smirked and stifled her laughter with a snort.

Shaking her head and smiling, Janet took the pie and wandered back toward the kitchen. "Thanks, you two. Now come on in and make yourselves comfortable." Glancing back, Janet smiled with amusement as Sam automatically helped Colonel O'Neill out of his coat, letting him put his hand on her shoulder for balance as she took one crutch and then switched sides while he got his arms out of the sleeves. Sam then took her own coat off and hung them both up.

"Food smells good," the Colonel commented as he hobbled into the kitchen with Sam close behind.

"Doesn't it?" Cassie cried cheerily. "I'm so excited for the turkey! It's my first one."

Janet smiled as she placed the pie on the counter and checked on the turkey in the oven, as well as the side dishes warming on top of the stove. This was Cassie's first Thanksgiving on Earth, and she couldn't help but get caught up in her daughter's enthusiasm.

Pulling out a chair at the table, Janet smiled at O'Neill. "Have a seat, Colonel."

He obliged after a moment of hesitation, laying his crutches on the floor. "Call me Jack, huh, Doc? We're off for the holidays." Glancing at Sam, he gave her a nod of inclusion in his request.

"Alright, if you insist." Janet winked at him and caught Captain Carter's somewhat-shy smile.

Jack waved Cassie over and pointed down at the end of his cast. "Help me out with this thing, will ya?"

"Sure, Jack." Cassie sent him a big smile, eager to help. She knelt down and carefully undid the plastic bag that was wrapped around the bottom of his cast.

Everyone looked to Janet curiously when Rowdy barked as there was a knock on the door. They weren't expecting anyone else to be joining them. "Oh, that must be Teal'c."

"I thought Teal'c was off-world visiting with Bra'tac?" Sam asked.

"He got back early so I invited him over to join us. One of the SFs must have dropped him off," Janet explained, leaving the kitchen to go let Teal'c in.

.

"It is good to see all of you; Doctor Fraiser, O'Neill, Captain Carter, and Cassandra Fraiser," Teal'c greeted them as he walked into the kitchen with Janet. "I am pleased to partake in this Tau'ri feasting of the turkey."

The Colonel gave a short chuckle from his chair and grinned. "Well, we're glad to have ya big guy."

"Alright now, everybody have a seat and we'll start with some salad," Janet said with authority. Even when out of the setting of the infirmary the small doctor could take charge quite easily.

Sam took a seat near the Colonel while Teal'c and Cassie sat on the other side, leaving the chair next to her for Janet. Colonel O'Neill—Jack—she had to remind herself, was at the head of the table so he had room for his plaster-encased leg to stick out without getting bumped.

After their salad course, Janet took out the turkey—with Teal'c's help—and everyone dug into the feast. They had yams, stuffing, mashed potatoes, butternut squash, cranberry sauce, and steamed broccoli. Sam was astonished that Janet had been able to put it all together on such short notice. The last minute grocery shopping run had to have been chaotic to say the least.

Sam leaned back in her chair with a soft sigh and pushed her plate away when she couldn't eat anymore. Both Cassie and Janet looked as stuffed as she felt, and Teal'c was still chowing down. Man, that Jaffa could eat! When she looked at Jack he was leaning back in his chair as well, looking rather full, though there was still some food on his plate. He looked exhausted, and Sam couldn't blame the man. He'd only been released from the infirmary yesterday and probably would have been at home resting if not for the holiday.

Catching Janet's eye, she subtly gestured toward the Colonel, and as the doctor nodded in silent agreement, Sam got out of her seat. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go relax in the living room, sir—ah—Jack. We'll start cleaning up and let you know when it's time for dessert."

He lifted his head and looked around at the others, but didn't argue. Sam picked up the crutches on the floor and handed them to him, preparing to help him to his feet while Janet and Cassie got up and began to clear the table.

Sam made sure Jack got to the couch alright, then went back to help in the kitchen after he'd put the football game on.

.

By the time the kitchen was all cleaned up and everyone was ready for a break before having dessert, they had all retreated to Janet's living room to rest and watch the football game with the Colonel.

Not wanting to make her desire to be near him so obvious, Sam took a seat toward the edge of the large sectional sofa while Jack was settled comfortably in the corner with his leg propped up and pointing toward her. Cassie plopped herself down next to him on the left while Janet sat on Cassie's other side and Teal'c took the armchair.

Before long, Cassie was fast asleep, curled up against Jack who soon followed, Rowdy lying curled up in his lap. Leaving them to rest, Sam, Teal'c, and Janet went into the kitchen for pie and coffee. Shortly after the three had finished their chatting and desserts, Sam asked Janet if they should maybe call it a night. It wasn't very late, but it was obvious that everyone was tired—except for Teal'c of course.

"Teal'c, I'll give you a ride back to base," Janet offered.

Teal'c gave a regal bow. "I would greatly appreciate that Doctor Fraiser."

Sam slid her chair back and stood. "I'll clean up here while you're gone."

Janet waved a hand of dismissal. "Oh, don't bother. I'll get it later."

"It's fine, I don't mind," Sam insisted. She walked over to Teal'c and gave him a hug. "I'm glad you were able to come, Teal'c."

"As am I, Captain Carter." Teal'c flashed a brief, and all-too-rare smile.

Janet walked with Teal'c to the door, pulling on her coat as he did the same. "I won't be long." She glanced in the direction of the living room. "If Cassie wakes up, just send her to bed. She can have some pumpkin pie first if she wants to. I know she's been eager to try it."

"Okay." Sam nodded. "Drive safe."

.

Jack dragged his heavy eyelids open to the sound of quiet clattering coming from the kitchen. He blinked with momentary confusion, then remembered that he was at the doc's house. Feeling that something or some_one _was leaning against him, Jack glanced left to see Cassie fast asleep at his side, and her dog was gone from his lap. He shifted slightly and grimaced when a jolt of pain shot up his leg. With a silent curse, he reached to the floor for his crutches and managed to get up without waking Cassandra.

By now the pain was radiating up and down his leg, from the tips of his toes all the way up to his groin. As he hobbled slowly out of the room, each jarring step enhanced the agony. God, he wished he'd brought his painkillers with him. Janet would probably have his ass for not taking them, but right now he didn't care. He just hoped she had something she could give him.

"Doc?" he called out as he staggered into the kitchen on his crutches. Jack didn't look up, having to concentrate on his footing.

"Sir?" Someone turned around at the sink, but it wasn't the doc. It was Carter.

Jack looked up to see her moving toward him, and the momentary lapse in concentration made him trip. He stumbled and would have fallen flat on his face had Carter not grabbed him. "Nice catch," he muttered with a pained smile.

Carter smiled tightly in return and helped him straighten up, steadying him. Her hands remained at his waist and there was little personal space between them.

As their eyes locked, their noses merely an inch or so apart, Jack couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to. Blaming his actions on a delirious, pain-influenced moment, Jack closed the gap between them and kissed her. She responded at first, and then the shock seemed to reach them both; they pulled apart, each grimacing sheepishly.

Carter's hands quickly fell away from his waist. "Sorry sir—Jack—_sir_. I…I wasn't—"

"Carter, no, it's—"

"What are you guys doing?"

Jack froze at Cassandra's sleepy voice behind him and saw Carter's eyes widen. "Nothing," they both responded simultaneously.

Cassie didn't seem to pick up on the 'too innocent' act, and Jack figured if she were a little older, spent a few more years on Earth, she would have caught on quicker. Instead, they got lucky; she changed the subject. "Where's Mom and Teal'c?"

Sam took a step away from the Colonel. She wasn't so sure it was safe still thinking of him as Jack. She smiled tightly at Cassandra. "Your mom just went to give Teal'c a ride back to the SGC. She wanted me to send you to bed, but said you can have some pie first if you want to."

But Cassie wasn't paying attention to her any longer. Her brows were furrowed with concern. "Uh, Sam, is Jack okay?"

"What?" Sam turned to Jack—er…Colonel O'Neill—oh hell, he had to be _Jack _now, for crying out loud. She grimaced for a moment. God, now she was starting to _think _like the man. Shoving away those thoughts, she looked at Jack; _really _looked at him. He had gotten pale, his face was creased with pain, and he was wavering in place, barely keeping himself up with the crutches.

_Oh shit_, Sam cursed internally, leaping toward him and clutching his upper arm. "Did you bring your painkillers with you?"

"No," he grunted, breathing hard.

Sam shifted to wrap a firm arm around his waist, taking one of his crutches and handing it to Cassandra so she could pull his arm across her shoulders. "First things first; let's get you back to the couch."

Cassie bounded after them as Sam slowly walked the Colonel back to the living room. "Should I call Mom?"

"No, she's probably on her way back already, Cassie. We'll be okay until she gets here." Sam's words were confident, but she wasn't so sure. With her arm around the Colonel's waist, she could feel how tense he was, his muscles taut and stiff. She knew his leg must have been killing him. She heard his soft groan as she lowered him to the couch and gently propped his leg up. Before Sam had too much time to worry about what she was going to do, the front door opened, signaling Janet's return.

Cassie immediately hurried toward her adopted mother.

"Cassandra, why aren't you in bed?" Sam heard Janet ask.

"Mom, Jack forgot his medicine. He looks bad."

"What?" Janet sounded worried. She rushed into the living room, Cassie bounding ahead of her.

"He didn't bring his pills with him," Sam explained to Janet, sitting on the sofa near Jack.

Janet crouched in front of him. "When was the last time you took something?" She put a hand on his shoulder.

Jack's eyes drifted towards Janet, his brows wavering minutely. "Choked down a handful of Tylenol this morning."

"Tylenol?" Janet scoffed. "That's it?" She heaved a frustrated sigh. "Why didn't you take the painkillers I prescribed you? Ack—never mind. I don't want to know." She shook her head and began to look him over, taking hold of his wrist to take his pulse.

Jack was frowning but he didn't pull away. He was well aware he was already in deep water with the doctor. He shifted to sit up a little straighter and grimaced.

"Your leg?" He nodded. "Give me a number." Janet was staring him right in the eyes, daring him to try lying to her.

He made a face, then grunted. "'Bout an eight."

Janet frowned. "How's your chest?"

Sam was surprised when Jack's gaze momentarily flicked to her face before he returned his attention to Janet. She wasn't sure what to make of that look.

"It's fine," he insisted with conviction.

Janet straightened and took a step back. "I think I have some painkillers in the cabinet. They're not as strong as the ones you left at home, but they should hold you for at least an hour or two. If the pain gets bad again once you're home, take two of the other ones before bed."

Jack said nothing as Janet moved away, snagging Sam lightly by the elbow and taking her along while Cassie sat down next to Jack. "Daniel won't be back until Monday, will he?" Janet asked her softly with a hint of worry to her tone.

"No, he said he'd be gone the whole weekend." Sam shook her head, then glanced back toward the living room for a moment as she followed Janet into the bathroom.

Janet opened the cabinet above the sink and began checking medicine bottle labels, searching for the right one. "Will you be able to stay with the Colonel for the rest of the holiday weekend? Or at least check up on him, because—"

"Ah, I don't know Janet…" Sam trailed off, chewing her lower lip. After what had happened between her and the Colonel in the kitchen, she wasn't so sure that being alone with Jack for the next three days was such a good idea.

"I know he'll say he's fine and that he can take care of himself, but I really don't think he should be alone, and I know for a fact he'll refuse to go back to the base," Janet finished, finding the bottle she'd been looking for and turning to Sam, pleading compassion in her eyes.

Heaving a sigh, Sam pulled a hand through her short hair and grimaced. "I…I guess so. I mean, unless he wants me to leave, or—"

Janet smiled and waggled a finger. "I'll make sure he doesn't try to get rid of you. I'll threaten to send him back to the infirmary or keep him here with me."

Sam laughed humorlessly, walking with Janet back to the living room. _Holy Hannah, _what had she gotten herself into now?

.

After waiting awhile for the painkillers Janet gave him to kick in, Sam helped the Colonel get into his truck and they drove back to his house. When they got there, it was obvious that the Colonel was exhausted. Sam helped him with his coat, then he shuffled off to his room on his crutches while she followed, hovering in the doorway.

Janet had told the Colonel that she wanted Sam to stay with him for a few days, but Sam wasn't so sure how he felt about that. The drive back to his house had been a little awkward, and Sam wasn't sure what was on the Colonel's mind, but _she'd _certainly been thinking about the kiss they'd shared in Janet's kitchen. Sam knew it was inappropriate, but she didn't regret what had happened. The feel of his lips on hers was burned into her memory.

"Do you…need anything, sir?"

O'Neill sat down on his bed and used the end of one crutch to push his boot off. "No, I'm fine." He got up again, hanging onto just one crutch this time, and hopped over to his tallest bureau. Pulling a drawer open, he grabbed a plain white t-shirt and some Homer Simpson pajama pants that made her crack a smile. "Need somethin' to wear to bed?" Jack tossed her the clothes without waiting for a response.

Sam caught them and smiled tightly with an appreciative nod. "Thank you, si—_Jack_." She noticed the brief grin on his face when he looked up at her.

Jack hopped back to his bed and sat down heavily. "G'night, Sam," he said softly.

"Goodnight." Nodding at him, Sam closed the door almost all the way and walked across the hall to the spare room, her heart fluttering. He'd called her Sam. Neither of them had mentioned the kiss in Janet's kitchen, but maybe they didn't need to, maybe they were okay without talking about it.

.

Jack didn't bother changing his clothes; it wasn't worth the effort. He just pulled off his khakis and sweater and crawled into bed in his boxers and t-shirt. He was cold, so he pulled the blankets up over his head, burrowing in to get warm.

As wiped out as he was, sleep didn't come easy. He tossed and turned as much as possible with his bulky cast, moving from one end of the bed to the other, to the middle, and back, but he just couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Sam and what had happened in Janet's kitchen. Jack mentally cursed himself for taking advantage of her in that moment; she'd only been trying to help him. Although, he considered, recalling those precious few seconds with overwhelming clarity, she _had _kissed him back. Jack grinned suddenly, staring up at the ceiling.

She'd kissed him back.

.

Waking up thirsty, Sam reluctantly crawled out from beneath her warm cocoon of blankets to get herself a glass of water. She padded quietly to the kitchen, wrapped in the plaid comforter from the guest room to combat the cold. After pouring herself some water, finishing half the glass, and then refilling it to take back to her room, Sam paused in the hallway between the guest room and Jack's room.

She heard what sounded like agitated grunts and pained moans coming from inside, along with the rustling of sheets and blankets. The door wasn't closed all the way, so she nudged it open just a hair and peered inside.

Jack was lying on the bed beneath a twisted bunch of blankets, shifting from side to side as much as possible with the heavy cast on his right leg.

Sam debated whether or not to wake him for at least three seconds, then stepped into the room. As soon as she did, she heard a sharp intake of breath and he went completely still. She assumed he'd woken himself up and she took another step forward. "Jack?"

"_Car—"_ he cleared his throat. _"Carter?" _Jack propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she quietly walked all the way over to his bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked, biting down on her lower lip as he pushed himself up in a sitting position and slid back to lean against the headboard with a pained groan. She tugged the comforter up tighter around her shoulders and set her glass of water down on his side table.

"Yeah." He reached for his plastered leg as though he wanted to massage the aching limb and huffed out a breath. "Ah—no, not really."

The Colonel's blankets had bunched down when he'd sat up, and it was clear to Sam now that he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt. He'd started shivering. Sam frowned with concern. "I'll get your pills, sir—um, Jack." She jerked a thumb toward the bathroom and hoped he couldn't see her blushing. "Bathroom?"

"Yeah." He sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. "They're on the counter."

When Sam got back with his medication, she noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead, even though he was still shivering. She frowned, then took the glass of water from his hand when he started to lie back down. She set it on the night table and turned to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked vulnerable and she didn't want to leave.

Jack was staring at her, something she couldn't quite decipher in his dark chestnut eyes. It wasn't desperation, but it was something close. "Carter."

One word; just one breathy, soft-spoken word and she was a pliable mass of goo. Smiling tightly, she rearranged his bedcovers, then added the one around her shoulders to the pile.

Without another word, Jack flipped down the blankets to his left, his attention still focused on her. The painkillers were surely beginning to kick in, judging from the faint glossiness of his eyes.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and crawled beneath the covers, fitting warmly against his side and pulling the blankets up almost over their heads. She felt his breathing hitch momentarily, and then he was putting an arm around her, pulling her closer like he needed her body heat to be warm.

With her face pressed against Jack's chest, feeling the heat of his body through his t-shirt, Sam closed her eyes and fell asleep.

.

Sam opened her eyes and shivered as a rush of cool air hit her. The blankets had been turned down on one half of the bed, and she was no longer curled up against Jack's warm body. She frowned, squinting in the lack of light to see him on the edge of the bed with his back to her like he was going to get up.

"Jack?" She sat up when he leaned back a little, twisting around to glance at her with a faint grimace.

"_Crr'tr?" _His voice sounded a little fuzzy, and Sam blamed it on the double dose of hefty pain relievers he'd taken before going back to sleep. _"S'cold."_

Sam smiled tightly, feeling the chill herself. "I know. And it's the middle of the night; why don't you get back under the blankets, huh?" She patted the mattress.

"_No." _He shook his head. _"Gotta…take a leak."_

"Oh." Sam leaned over and peered around the dark room, but couldn't find his crutches. She didn't bother with the light, not wanting to be blinded, and slid toward the edge of the bed beside Jack to help him. "Let me help; I can't find your crutches."

"'_Kay." _He stood up on one leg without warning and nearly fell sideways as Sam rushed to her feet to grab him.

"_Whoa! Easy. Just…take it easy." _Sam clung to him as he limped forward unsteadily, his heavy cast thunking softly on the floor with every other step. She figured the medication Janet had prescribed him must have been pretty potent; two pills had certainly knocked O'Neill on his ass and he definitely wasn't feeling any pain.

Helping Jack stagger into the bathroom, Sam was thankful for the little nightlight plugged into the outlet by the sink, which enabled her to see without blinding her. She stood him in front of the toilet and then started to leave, but as soon as she released his arm and moved away, the Colonel began to fall over.

"Jack!" Sam cried out in alarm and grabbed him by his left bicep with both hands. "Jesus," she swore under her breath. "Can you sit down on the edge of the tub for a minute while I go find one of your crutches?" she asked the barely-coherent man she was hanging onto.

"Crr'tr," he mumbled with little patience, "I'm 'bout to…piss myself."

Sam grimaced and felt her cheeks flush. Thank God it was still too dark and he was way too loopy on meds to notice. She heaved a reluctant sigh. "Alright, I'll just…hold you up and—and turn my head, okay?"

She swore she caught him smirking, and then he reached for the fly of his boxer shorts. Oh boy, Sam thought with wide eyes, quickly turning her head and holding onto his left arm firmly so he wouldn't fall.

"No peeking, now."

If possible, Sam felt her cheeks burn hotter, and hotter still when she could actually hear him relieving himself a second later. _Yep_, she thought to herself, eyes firmly shut, _This definitely tops the list of 'Most Embarrassing Moments With My CO.'_

When Jack announced, "All done," in his drunken-sounding, quiet mumble, Sam opened her eyes and helped him over to the sink so he could wash his hands.

They were both shivering by the time Sam got him back in bed, and she quickly checked the thermostat, turning it up a few notches before joining Jack without even thinking twice about it.

.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

**Friday**

Jack was still dead to the world when she woke the next morning, and Sam was still pressed against him, enjoying the shared warmth from their close contact. She wanted to just stay there forever if she could, but was afraid that Jack might wake up, and wasn't so sure how clear his memory of the previous night would be. Sam didn't want things to be more awkward than they had to be.

With a soft sigh, Sam reluctantly disentangled herself from Jack and slid out from under the warm pile of blankets. She carefully crept into the hall, returning to the spare room where she'd left her clothes from the previous day and mentally cursing herself for not having anything else to wear. Sam knew she'd need to run home at some point to pack a bag since she'd be staying with Jack for the next couple of days.

Wanting a hot shower, even though she had nothing clean to change into, Sam gathered her clothes and went into the main bathroom, letting the Colonel sleep. He was still huddled under the lump of blankets in bed when she got out of the shower and re-dressed in her previous days clothes.

Approaching the bed, she peeled some blankets back and placed her hand on his t-shirt clad shoulder, leaning over the bed. "Colonel?" He made a noise and his head shifted slightly. "Jack."

"Hm?"

"I'm just going home to get a few things and I'll be right back. Will you be okay?" Sam whispered.

"Mm-hm," Jack mumbled sleepily in reply and she pulled the blanket back up when he started shivering.

"I won't be gone long," she promised, bending over to kiss his forehead without thinking about it. When she realized what she did, Sam froze by Jack's bed, staring at him to see if he'd open his eyes. Thankfully, he didn't, and she made a hasty retreat.

.

It was snowing again, and pretty heavily, so Sam took Jack's truck to her place and quickly packed a bag with a few days worth of clothes and anything else she might need. She changed her clothes and made a quick stop at the market for a couple of things, knowing Jack hadn't had much in the refrigerator when she'd looked last. They still had a bunch of leftovers from Janet's, but would need some basics to last for the next few days, especially considering the thought that it was very likely that they would be snowed in.

After making her way in Jack's front door with two grocery bags and her duffle, Sam kicked off her boots, dropped her duffle by the lounge steps, and trudged into the kitchen with the food. She found Jack at the table eating a bowl of Froot Loops and nursing a cup of coffee. He was wearing his flannel robe, with the fleece throw from the living room over his shoulders.

"Want some coffee?" he asked, glancing at her for the first time since she walked into the kitchen. He furrowed his brows as she began to put away the groceries she'd bought. "What's all that?"

"You needed some real food in the house besides Janet's leftovers. I think we might get snowed in, sir." Sam winced at the 'sir' at the end of that sentence, especially when the title produced a grunt of disapproval from Jack. "Sorry." She bit her lower lip.

Jack glanced toward the big kitchen windows to his left. He hummed thoughtfully and nodded. "Snowin' hard."

"Yeah." Sam finished putting everything away and got herself a cup of coffee before sitting across from Jack at the table. She was oddly pleased—at least for the moment—that he wasn't talking about last night, or what happened in Janet's kitchen. If he could ignore it, than so could she. But they couldn't ignore it forever, and that's what she was worried about.

.

He was snowed in. Alone. With Carter. Jack didn't really know what to think, or do, or how to act. He was driving himself nuts as the snow continued to fall and all he could think about was curling up next to Sam on the couch under a pile of warm, heavy blankets. To stave off those thoughts, he did everything he could possibly do to distract himself.

He lit the fire in the fireplace—with Sam's help—then turned on his PlayStation so they could both play _Call of Duty. _Which they did—for nearly three straight hours. And it worked, distracting Jack enough for him to stop thinking about snuggling with Captain Samantha Carter, stop thinking about the feel of her soft, supple lips against his, her body warming his own.

"Maybe we should play in 'Co-Op' mode," he muttered softly with a frown when Sam killed his character with a headshot for the umpteenth time.

"Ha! You only want to play 'Co-Op' because I'm kicking your butt." She turned her head and flashed him an unbridled Brilliant Carter Smile.

"Do not," he denied.

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Not."

"You totally do." Sam grinned triumphantly.

Jack opened his mouth to continue with the bantering, but an uncomfortable twinge in his chest made him stop as he inhaled sharply. He kept himself from letting a groan escape and set his controller down on the coffee table, easing his leg off the pillow that rested there. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You want somethin', Carter?" he asked casually, hiding his grimace as he reached for his crutches.

Sam eyed him suspiciously for a moment, probably just figuring he'd taken the easy way out of the argument. "No thank you, si—uh…Jack. I can get it if you want." She started to get up but he quickly waved her off.

"Naw, it's okay. I needta move around a little." Jack flashed a swift, disarming grin and hobbled toward the steps.

"Okay." He heard her tentative reply as he laboriously navigated the three steps up from the lounge.

Jack went to grab himself a glass of water in case Carter caught him. He paused at the sink, leaning against the counter as he set one crutch against it. He sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't make the pain in his chest subside; if anything he felt worse. Sam had made him take a painkiller not too long ago, and it was too early for another dose. His leg wasn't acting up yet, so Jack figured he could do his best to ignore the flares of pain in his chest for now.

Taking his glass of water, Jack left one crutch behind and hobbled back to the lounge and Sam. To his surprise, she was in the hallway, pulling on her coat and boots and reaching into the hall closet for his snow shovel. "Ah… What'cha doin'?"

"I'm going to shovel your walkway," she answered as though it were obvious.

"You don't hafta do that." Jack hobbled over to stand in front of her, leaning as casually as possible against the one crutch he had with him.

"Oh yeah?" Carter rose an incredulous eyebrow at him. "And who's going to do it? You?" She gave his cast a long look.

Jack grimaced sheepishly and sighed with a shrug.

"You should lie down while I go shovel," Sam suggested as she reached for the door handle.

He rubbed a hand across his stubbly face. He'd changed clothes earlier, but hadn't really washed up yet. It was such a long, taxing process, and he wasn't really feeling up to it, but Jack didn't want Sam to think he stunk. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go wash up a little."

.

Sam finished the walkway and made a path to Jack's truck, clearing it off as much as she could before trudging back inside. There was already another inch on the ground where she'd shoveled.

Taking off her snowy boots, coat, and the gloves she'd borrowed from Jack, Sam quickly made her way to the fireplace in the living room to warm up a little. She threw a few more logs in and then looked around, not seeing Jack anywhere. The door to his bedroom was open, so she crossed over to the closed door of his en suite and knocked, figuring he was still in there washing up; it had taken him quite a while the previous day, and he'd needed her help.

"Jack?"

"_Yeah. Be out in a minute, Carter,"_ he called back through the door.

"Do you need help with your hair again, sir?" Sam remembered him awkwardly trying to lean over the sink the other day, his clunky cast getting in the way.

"_Nah, not gonna bother this time." _

Sam just nodded outside the door. "Alright, sir. I'll just be in the kitchen to start on lunch." She realized she'd called him 'sir' again, and quickly amended with, "Any requests, Jack?" She liked calling him by his name, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she didn't want to stop. She liked hearing him call her 'Sam,' too, though he still mostly used 'Carter.' Jack had always made even her last name sound almost like a term of endearment.

"_Nah, I trust you, Carter."_

Sam smiled to herself and left him alone to figure out what they'd be having for lunch.

.

Glancing up from eating her sandwich, Sam noticed Jack's face was looking a little more pale than before and he had stopped eating. She watched him rub one hand across his chest and sigh softly before putting his food down to take a drink.

Sam got up silently and went to grab his painkillers from the bathroom. When she gave them to him, he took them silently and she sat back down across from him. Biting her lower lip for a moment, she hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He blew out a breath and pulled a hand through his hair. "Just tired I think." Jack bent over to pick up the crutches on the floor and levered himself upright. "I'm gonna go lie down for a while." He began a slow hobble out of the kitchen and Sam watched him go with concern.

Realizing that he hadn't really rested all day, Sam was sure that Jack must have been exhausted. Once he disappeared down the hall, she rose from the table and started to clean up their remnants from lunch.

When she was finished in the kitchen, Sam added a few more logs to the fire and then went back outside to shovel again, seeing how heavily the snow had come down. She found some ice melt in the closet and took it with her so she could spread it over the walk after shoveling, worried about ice build up. She definitely didn't want the Colonel slipping with his broken leg if he had to go out for any reason.

By the time Sam was done with the walkway, she could stand the cold no longer. Ditching her extra layers of clothing, borrowed or otherwise, she made a beeline for the fireplace and the warm fleece blanket from Jack's couch. She huddled on the rug in front of the fire for a long while until she'd warmed up sufficiently, then got up to check on Jack.

She found him lying on his bed with a pile of blankets over him, but he wasn't asleep as she would have expected. He was flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Striding toward him, Sam sat on the edge of his bed and smiled tenderly when he turned his head in her direction, blinking slowly. He looked tired, and she had to wonder if he'd slept at all since he'd gone to lie down. Before she could say anything, he spoke.

"I keep…having these dreams," he whispered, staring up at the ceiling again.

Sam's brows furrowed as she waited patiently for him to go on.

"They're usually more like memories." Jack blinked slowly. "Of Antarctica. Either while we're there, or after we get back home. Things always start out the way they really happened, then…" he breathed in deeply, "it changes."

Her eyes remained fixed on his face, and he turned his head to look at her again.

Jack's voice petered out to a whisper, his eyes pained—haunted. _"You always disappear." _He swallowed audibly and took in another steadying breath. "Like _poof_, gone like vapor. You don't just leave, you're…gone."

Sam smiled sympathetically. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack," she assured him, reaching out a hand to place soothingly on his head, since every other part of him was buried in blankets. Her thumb brushed his forehead, and she frowned.

"What?" he murmured, his frown now matching hers as she removed her hand.

"You feel warm."

He managed a shrug beneath all those blankets. "I'm okay."

She shivered suddenly as a chill ran up her spine, and then Jack was pushing his blankets up for her.

"C'mere?" he asked softly, a little unsure.

Sam hesitated for half a second before crawling beneath the heavy blankets and curling up to Jack's warm side, tucking her face into his shoulder. "You can sleep now; I'm right here."

.

The painkillers he'd taken after lunch were really knocking him out, and with Sam so close to him, he allowed himself to finally sleep, hoping that her presence would stave off the nightmares for now.

Jack woke up alone sometime later, but he knew Sam hadn't been gone long because the spot next to him was still warm. He pushed the layers of blankets off and dragged himself to the edge of the bed, gently lowering his injured leg to the floor. He rubbed his chest at the uncomfortable twinge that came when he sucked in a deep breath. Jack grimaced as he heard himself wheezing; he felt a little short of breath.

He looked up when he heard Sam's voice, and she walked into the room, talking on her cell phone. "Okay, yeah I will. Thanks, Janet. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"What's goin' on?" Jack rasped, fighting the urge to rub his chest again.

Sam grimaced apologetically as she looked at him. "I called Janet. I'm sorry, but you still feel warm and you've been wheezing. I got worried."

He sighed and frowned briefly. "What did Doc say?"

"She thinks you have a little chest cold. Janet can't get here because of the snow, but she told me to make sure you rest and get plenty of fluids, and she thinks it should go away on its own."

Jack grunted. Great, just add another ailment to the list. The universe must love kicking him when he was down.

"Janet said your immune system is weakened because of the hypothermia you suffered. Actually she said that was true for both of us and wouldn't be surprised if I got a little sick, too, but your case of hypothermia was worse than mine."

Raising his eyebrows, Jack looked at her with concern. "Are you? Feeling sick I mean."

Sam shrugged. "Not really. I mean, the chills are coming and going, but I've felt that way since we got back from Antarctica, just like you."

Jack rubbed at his forehead and nodded. He reached for his crutches and stood with more effort than he expected. Hobbling into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him, pausing by the sink to rub his chest as the breath wheezed out of his lungs.

.

The fire in the living room had just about burned out, a few glowing embers remaining, so Sam added a few more logs from the enormous pile near the hearth. She stabbed at it with the iron poker hanging nearby until there was a decent flame. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen and smiled as she saw Jack hobbling down the hall to the lounge. She got two glasses of orange juice and then met him on the couch.

"Here, drink this," Sam told him as she handed him the glass.

"M'not thirsty," Jack insisted, his voice low and groggy. He leaned forward to prop his leg up on the coffee table, struggling to stick a pillow underneath it.

"Janet said you need fluids, Colonel," she reiterated, giving him a stern look when he pushed the glass back at her. Sam had to take it otherwise it would've ended up spilled on the sofa.

Jack frowned, slumping down further in the couch cushions and crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. He heaved a weary sigh, his breathing rasping noisily again.

Sam turned on the TV and then sank back against the cushions, leaning against his right side and still holding his juice and her own. "How's your leg feel?"

"Fine."

Wondering at his fowl mood, Sam just figured he was grouchy because now he was sick on top of everything else. Her mood wouldn't have been the best if she were in his shoes either.

They just sat for a long while, staring at the television without really watching what was on, neither saying a word. Sam slowly finished her juice, but still held onto Jack's. Finally, he turned to her, lightly plucking the glass from her hand with an appreciative nod and drinking slowly. Sam smiled over at him and then got up, gently touching his cast. "You want dinner?"

He made a face. "Not real hungry, Carter."

She smiled thinly. "I know, but it'll be better if you eat something with the meds you're on. I'll just heat up some soup, alright?"

When Jack finally nodded in agreement, Sam got up and draped a blanket over him while she went to heat up their food. As she poured the can of soup into a saucepan and turned on the stove, Sam allowed her mind to rehash the last two days. She and Jack were still avoiding talking about the kiss at Janet's, or the night they shared in his bed; they were still pretending like everything was just all okay, like it didn't matter. But it did matter; it mattered a lot.

.

It had gotten late after they finished their small supper of soup and crackers, neither really feeling very hungry. Jack had fallen asleep on the couch shortly after eating, but Sam wanted to wake him up, figuring he'd be more comfortable in his own bed.

"Jack?" Sam firmly pressed her hand against his shoulder as she called his name.

"Hrm?" he grunted without moving or opening his eyes.

"Let me help you to bed; it's late." She waited patiently for him to rouse himself enough to start to get up, then handed him his crutches and helped to pull him upright.

Once they got to Jack's room, Sam turned down the covers as he set his crutches by the night table and sat down, coughing and rubbing his chest. She frowned sympathetically at him. "Do you need some help getting changed?"

"Nope. Not gunna," he murmured tiredly. He was already wearing baggy sweatpants and an old t-shirt anyway, and if he was comfortable that was fine with her.

"Okay." Sam nodded and went to get his medication while he attempted to get situated in bed.

She came back with a glass of water and a double dose of pain pills to get him through the night. He took them silently, and when she tugged the blankets up over him, found him staring deeply into her eyes. She felt trapped by his brown-eyed gaze, but it was entirely a bad thing.

"Why are you doing this?" he breathed, his eyes never leaving her face.

Sam's brows furrowed with confusion. "Doing what?"

"Staying here. Taking care of me." Jack's voice started to rasp.

She smiled tightly and waved a hand in a vague gesture, refusing to look deeper into what he was asking. "Janet said—"

He looked disappointed; forlorn. "Is that the only reason? 'Cause Doc told you to play babysitter?"

Taken aback by his words and the dejected expression on his face, Sam chewed her bottom lip and stared down at her hands that were fiddling with the edge of his blanket. "No," she murmured finally, unable to look at him.

"Then why?"

"Because I—" she started out strong, but then lost the courage to continue with that train of thought. _You're not supposed to have these feelings for him! _Sam mentally cursed herself. She swallowed convulsively when he managed to pull an arm out from beneath the blankets and grasped her fiddling hand.

"_Sam." _

"Sir." She instantly regretted purposely injecting that word. It was a barrier, and she knew it. "I'm sorry… I _can't_." Feeling like a coward, which she knew she was, Sam fled from the room and didn't look back.

.

Jack struggled to sit upright in bed in his attempt to go after her. He cursed the fact that he was dosed up on painkillers that were slowing his progress drastically as they began to take effect. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before a wave of dizziness swept over him, the meds trying to force him into sleep.

Grabbing for his crutches, Jack got himself upright, swaying precariously and hobbling forward a few steps as he tried to catch his balance. The effort already had him breathing hard and wheezing, his chest aching. He was so afraid that she'd leave, and he needed to tell her that it was okay, that he felt the same way about her and that they could find a way to work things out. He didn't want to let her go; he couldn't.

"Carter," Jack called out once he made it to the door. His voice was choked and barely there. He doubted she could even hear him. He had to go to _her_.

Hobbling unsteadily down the hallway, Jack stopped at the top of the lounge steps, not sure he could make it down there right now without falling flat on his face. Peering into the dark room, he didn't see any sign of Carter so he turned precariously and hobbled toward the spare room, afraid she might be gathering her things.

Through the barely-open door Jack could see Carter sitting on the bed with her face in her hands. It felt even harder to breathe than before, and taking several deep breaths as he moved into the room only resulted in a coughing fit that nearly knocked him on his ass.

"What are you doing?"

He heard Sam's shriek of alarm a second before her arm slid around his waist. Jack dropped one of his crutches as Sam guided him to the bed, wheezing and barely able to catch his breath. _"I didn't…want you…to go,"_ he confessed, gasping.

Sam sighed as she sat him down, taking his remaining crutch and putting it off to the side. "I wasn't going to leave," she admitted softly, folding her hands in front of her and staring down at them. "I just… I feel…" she sighed again, frustrated. "I feel _too much _for you."

Jack blinked at her, confused. Or maybe it was just the drugs. The last time he'd had a double dose it had left him quite out of it. Actually, he looked as though he would drop off to sleep at any moment.

"Sir—"

"Carter," he growled with all the energy he could muster. "Don't." There was a deep sadness swirling in his eyes that made Sam's heart stutter with grief for thinking that she could ever deny herself this man.

"I have never felt for anyone…the way I feel about you," Sam finally confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.

Jack turned his head, their eyes meeting, his heavy-lidded and hopeful. _"Sam." _

Only then did Sam realize how noisy and labored his breathing was. "Just lie down, okay?" she instructed, helping him get his legs up on the mattress and tucking them carefully beneath the covers. She adjusted the pillows at his back so he would be slightly reclined to help his breathing, then turned off the lights and got changed in the dark.

When she crawled into bed next to Jack, Sam heard his breathy voice before the drugs pulled him to sleep. Very softly, he said, "_I love you, Carter." _Sam had difficulty getting to sleep after that, thinking about Jack's words and wondering if he'd remember in the morning.

.


	4. Part Four

**Note: **I did a tiny little flub in this part, so we're just going to have to pretend that _There But For The Grace of God _takes place before _Solitudes. _Sorry about that. My bad.

Also, this is the final part to this story and I just want to say thank you to those of you who have read and reviewed. I know I haven't gotten a chance to respond to every review and I just want you guys to know I appreciate it very much. :) Hope you enjoy this last part.

**Part Four**

**Saturday**

Jack was a little out of sorts when he woke in the morning, but as he opened his eyes, he knew for sure he wasn't in his own room. He sat himself up straighter and coughed, bringing one hand up to his chest as the painful spasms continued. When the fit began to subside, Jack felt movement at his side and quickly realized that he wasn't alone in bed. As the blonde mop of hair next to him came into focus, a somewhat-hazy, drugged-up memory returned. Sam had told him about the feelings she felt for him, and in return Jack had confessed his love for her before falling asleep in the guest bed where she'd been sleeping the last couple nights. _Crap._

Not quite sure how Sam would react given what had happened last night, and also not wanting her to leave, Jack was afraid of waking her. He was surprised she hadn't woken yet while he'd been coughing up his lungs, and decided she must have been really exhausted.

Jack laid back down and tried to keep still for a while longer, but it was morning now and the pain meds he'd taken before bed had long since worn off. Sporadic jolts of pain were shooting up and down his broken leg, and his already-raspy breathing became louder as he tried to contain the agony.

Still not wanting to wake Sam, he stared up at the ceiling and started tapping out a soft mantra with his fists on the mattress. Jack didn't realize the soft thumping of his fists had become heavy pounding until Sam rolled toward him with open eyes and quickly sat up before taking one good look at him and scrambling out of bed with a hastily whispered, "Hang on."

Seconds passed that felt like hours. The next thing Jack knew, Sam was helping him sit up and he was chasing down some pills with a glass of water. He slumped back, but he wasn't lying flat. Sam had hastily piled some pillows behind him to lean against, and was kneeling on the bed beside him. Jack clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the meds to kick in, but the pain in his leg didn't recede. In fact, it felt like it was getting worse. Sweat beaded on his brow and poured down his face, his breathing loud and ragged.

"Jack?" Sam's hand was against his forehead in an instant, and then she was gone again, returning to his side shortly with her cell phone to her ear.

.

After an uncomfortable ride in his truck, along with the even more pain-increasing feat of climbing in and out of the truck, Jack was lying on a gurney in an exam room at the Academy Hospital waiting for Janet Fraiser. Sam had quickly phoned the doc when it became apparent that his pain had increased and wasn't going away. Fraiser had insisted he come to the hospital to get checked out, especially now since the streets had been plowed and appeared safe to drive on.

Jack was frustrated, lying back on the gurney, clenching his teeth and squeezing the life out of Sam's hand while they waited for Fraiser. None of the nurses would give him anything until Janet could see him, despite his muttered curses of pain and barely-contained agony.

"Hang in there, sir," Sam whispered, covering their joined hands with her free one and squeezing gently.

Jack's harsh, labored breathing sounded even worse now, both from the chest cold and the flaring agony in his right leg. He knew he was crushing Sam's hand and tried to loosen his grip. _"Sorry, Carter,"_ he murmured apologetically.

She just sent him a tight, reassuring smile and patted his hand over hers. "It's okay, Colonel."

Jack tried not to grimace at the returned use of his title. He knew it was only because they were at the hospital, and acknowledged that it was the smart thing to do. He had to distance himself from her while they were here, despite his desire not to because he was in so much pain. Jack was craving her closeness and her comfort.

He felt himself sag slightly with relief when Janet came into the exam room with an equipment tray. "Okay Colonel, I know you're in a lot of pain but I need to take a look at you before I can give you anything, okay?"

He knew the drill. Jack grunted in assent as she stepped up alongside his bed, checked his pulse, and listened to his chest before looking at him seriously. "Sir, I'm going to need to get your pants off to examine your leg." Janet glanced over at Sam. "Would you like Captain Carter to step out?"

"_No. S'okay,"_ he managed barely audibly through clenched teeth. Jack released Sam's hand, but he didn't want her to go.

"Okay," Janet nodded, then eyed him for a moment. "Do you think we could help you get them off or do you want me to use the scissors?"

Jack grimaced briefly, but eventually said, "I can get 'em off." He really didn't want to have to go home in a gown or scrubs. Using one hand on the bed for leverage, he lifted his hips and tugged at the elastic waist of his sweatpants with his free hand. He was silently grateful when both Janet and Sam assisted in getting them off and down over the cast on his right leg.

Janet tugged the curtain closed around the gurney and then went to check out his leg. Even Jack could see the red, swollen flesh peeking out from the cast where it ended a little past mid-thigh. He winced when Janet pushed up the edge of his boxer shorts to further expose his leg, and shot a look over at Carter. He definitely didn't want any private bits poking out of his shorts while she was there! Tugging the blanket over his left leg and most of his lap, he softly murmured, "It's cold," as an excuse when both Janet and Sam looked at him. Which wasn't a total lie; without his pants on and wearing only a t-shirt, he was pretty chilly! He had goosebumps all over.

After a brief look at his injured leg, Janet took a step back. "Okay, sir, your leg is swelling pretty badly under the cast, so I'm going to have to remove it. I'll also want to do an MRI just to check that the bones are healing well, and a chest X-Ray to make sure your little chest cold isn't turning into pneumonia." She edged closer to the door. "First I just want to give you a corticosteroid injection; that should help with the pain and swelling in your leg. I'll be right back."

.

Once Janet had given Jack the injection, he was covered in a blanket and an orderly arrived to help Fraiser take him for his scans. Sam sunk into the chair in the exam room and said she'd wait. She really wanted to go with Jack, but didn't want to make it so obvious just how much closer she'd gotten with him over the last couple of days.

Sam waited anxiously for Janet and Jack to return, tapping her foot in a staccato beat against the floor. With such a crazy morning, her brain was just now able to take a moment to catch up, reminding Sam about what had been said between herself and Jack last night. There were still doubts in her mind that Jack would even recall what had happened, but she knew that this time she didn't want to just forget and shove things aside. This time she wanted to confront these feelings and doubts head on. She wanted to talk to Jack, but not right now. She wanted to wait until he was feeling a bit better and not doped up on meds. And she also wanted to wait until they were in the privacy of his home, not here in the hospital.

Sam stood several minutes later when Janet and the orderly returned, pushing Jack's gurney back into the room. The back of the gurney was tilted so he wasn't lying completely flat, and he looked pretty groggy. The blanket over him was pulled up to his chin, only his right leg exposed. "Janet?" she asked, wanting to know what was going on.

"I gave him a painkiller along with the cortisone. The MRI showed no additional damage to his leg; it's healing well, and there's no infection despite the swelling. I'm going to have to cut the cast off and put him in a removable one that will allow him to put ice on it when necessary."

Nodding with understanding, Sam moved beside the gurney and resisted the urge to put her hand on Jack's shoulder. He remained quiet. "What about his chest X-Ray?"

"There's some congestion in his lungs, but it hasn't developed into pneumonia, and I'm fairly confident it won't," Janet replied without missing a beat, then added, "As long as he continues to rest and get plenty of fluids. I'm also going to send him home with some pills that should help with the congestion."

"_So I can go home?"_ Jack asked, his voice low and muzzy.

Janet smiled at him. "Yes, Colonel. After we get the cast off and the new brace on, Sam can take you home."

"Okay."

Sam stayed right by Jack's gurney while Janet left to get the special saw for his cast. He was staring at his leg now, and she wondered if he was apprehensive about seeing his injured leg without the plaster covering. _She _sure was, and she didn't even have a reason why.

.

Jack tried very hard not to move as Janet carefully cut away the plaster encasing his right leg from mid-thigh to his toes. As the cast was methodically split in half and removed just as meticulously, Jack felt the cool air hit his exposed skin and his whole body shivered. Despite only being in the cast for a few weeks, his leg was pale with faint smatterings of purple and yellowish bruising, and already losing some muscle tone, visible even with the swelling that was still going down. He started to bend his knee up, wanting so badly to flex the joint, but a spiral of pain spiked all the way up to his groin and he sucked in a sharp breath. The cortisone hadn't kicked in yet.

"Colonel, don't!" Janet scolded him warningly, very gently placing her small, cool hands above and below his right knee. "Let me put the brace on. Don't you move that leg an inch," she commanded.

Jack winced with a muttered, "Yes, ma'am." He slid a sideways glance toward Sam and sent her a lopsided smile. "Sorry 'bout all this…Carter." He cleared his throat and started to cough.

Sam reached a hand behind him to rub his back as he leaned forward with the coughing fit. "It's okay, sir. It's not your fault."

He slowly took in a deep breath once the fit subsided, and his attention shifted to Janet as she brought over his sweatpants and the knee brace. Jack clenched his jaw as both Sam and the doctor helped him dress again, and then Janet was opening the straps on the leg brace.

"Colonel, this brace has a moveable knee joint where the tension can be adjusted for therapy when you've recovered more. I'm just going to lock it in place so your knee isn't bent, okay?"

"Yeah." Jack grunted with a nod. He clenched his teeth slightly as Janet gently lifted his leg to slide the brace on beneath it. As long as he didn't move it too much, like when he'd tried to bend his knee up, the pain was dulled from the injections the doc had given him.

"You need to elevate your leg while resting to keep the swelling down, and use ice when necessary," Fraiser told him while she adjusted the straps on his brace. "And if I hear from Captain Carter that you're not doing that, I'm coming to get you with my biggest needles!" she threatened half-heartedly.

Jack caught Sam's tight smile as his gaze shifted to her. Her hand suddenly slid away from his back self-consciously, and she held both hands behind her in almost a parade rest.

.

By the time they got back to the Colonel's house, Jack was pretty drained, and a little drugged up. Sam took his coat and shoe, then helped him hobble back to his room. When he was lying down, she carefully placed a few pillows beneath his leg and then packed some ice around his knee. He was drifting off rapidly, and before she left the room, Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead.

In a short while it would be lunch, and since neither she nor Jack had eaten a thing this morning, Sam went to the kitchen to see what she could come up with.

After heating up some sauce and cooking pasta, Sam left the meal on the stove to stay warm and went to go check on her Colonel. She heard his hacking cough the moment she stepped into the hall, and turned around to grab the medication she'd left in the kitchen before entering his room.

Sam handed Jack the pills for his chest congestion and he lay back exhausted for a moment once the coughing fit subsided. He was rubbing at his chest, breathing in and out slowly. "I made some pasta. Do you want to try and eat something?"

He didn't look like he did, but he nodded anyway, probably knowing that he_ should_ eat since he hadn't had anything all day.

Stuffing some pillows behind his back when he sat up, Sam left the room again to bring their food. When she came back she carefully crawled onto the bed beside him, leaning against the headboard before handing him his bowl of pasta.

"Thanks," he rasped appreciatively. Jack pushed himself to sit up a little straighter and began slowly shoveling some food in his mouth.

With her own bowl of pasta on her lap, Sam watched him as she ate, barely focusing on her own food. She was too preoccupied, worried about Jack and still wondering what he remembered from last night. It still didn't feel like the right time to bring anything up while he was exhausted and on meds.

Jack managed to finish almost all of his lunch before reaching over to put his bowl on the night table. He sunk back into his pillows a moment, breathing shallowly until he was overcome with a full body shiver.

"Cold?" Sam asked, setting her food aside and eyeing him with concern.

"Hm." He nodded, then waved a hand toward his leg. "It's the ice."

Sam got up and gently removed the ice packs from his leg, taking them to the kitchen to stick back in the freezer. When she returned to Jack's bedroom he was half asleep and beginning to slump sideways.

Finding Jack a sweatshirt in the closet, Sam brought it over. "Want to put this on?"

He managed to open his eyes and nod sleepily.

"Okay, we'll have you warmed right up." Sam smiled compassionately and helped him put on the old Air Force crewneck she'd dug out of the closet. She then adjusted his pillows and got him to lie back again, only slightly reclined so he could still breathe well enough.

After piling on the blankets, Sam didn't want to leave him, even though he was already fast asleep. Lifting the heavy pile, she scooted close to Jack beneath, curling up to his side without touching his leg or adding any extra weight to his chest. She rested her head at his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Sam wasn't tired at all and couldn't bring herself to fall asleep despite the comforting warmth of leaning against Jack's solid form. She couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said to Jack the previous night, and how he'd openly told her he loved her. Even though he was drowsy and drugged at the time, he'd said it. Sam couldn't stop wondering if he'd say it if he was completely coherent. And she wanted to know if _she'd _be able to say it out loud to him. Of course she'd _sort of _said it, vague as she was, but she needed to know if she could really do what she had to do when it counted. Sam needed to tell Jack, clearly and in no uncertain terms, that she loved him. Despite the Air Force, their professional standings, whatever; Samantha Carter loved Jack O'Neill, and that was all that mattered right now.

Sitting up slowly and carefully, Sam slid off the bed and quietly left Jack's room. She went off to the kitchen to clean up after lunch, eager to do something simple and domestic that would allow her to gather her thoughts.

.

Jack didn't wake again until almost 1800 hrs, and it was about that time when Sam worked up the courage to have the very serious and most dreaded conversation with him. She was just about to get up from the couch when she heard Jack hobbling down the hall. Sam jumped up to help him, reluctantly retaking her seat when he waved her down.

"I got it, Carter," he said, his voice raspy. "Sam." Jack's expression changed when Sam looked at him, his brows knit together slightly with a tentative grin on his face.

Sam watched Jack carefully as he hobbled slowly down the lounge steps. He made his way to the couch and sunk down beside her as gingerly as possible. She helped him settle despite grunted protests, stuffing a pillow beneath his leg after elevating it on the coffee table. When he finally heaved a sigh of relief, she sent him a tentative sideways smile.

For a minute or two, Sam didn't quite know what to say or how to say it. She must have been staring at him for a while because he gave her a curious look and then lightly nudged her arm with the back of his hand.

"What is it?"

Sam snapped herself out of it and twisted sideways on the couch to face him better. She chewed on her lower lip for a while, her brows quivering as she worked up the nerve to just say what she needed to. Finally, taking a deep breath, she let it out. "Did you mean what you said?"

He cocked his head, smirked a little, and then a serious expression came over his face. "When?" Jack asked softly, hesitantly, like he wanted to be sure they were on the same level here.

She swallowed nervously, ducking her head, her heart hammering away in her chest. Sam's fingers twisted distractedly in the hem of her shirt, and her voice grew very soft. "When you said you loved me."

Jack's eyes were dark and guarded when she looked up at him. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I did… I _do _mean it, Carter. Sam. I love you."

.

Jack's heartbeat slowed marginally with relief when she sent him a brilliant smile, her blue eyes sparkling.

"When you kissed me at Janet's on Thanksgiving, I just…I—"

He grinned back at her, and then suddenly his face was in her hands and she was pressing her lips to his. Wrapping his arms around her, Jack eagerly returned the kiss until his chest grew tight with a need for air, his congested lungs fighting with his carnal desires.

Sam dropped her hands and pulled back, allowing him to catch his breath, the air wheezing in his lungs, but a grin still on his face. "Sorry," she murmured quickly with embarrassment. "I know this is wrong and we can't… We're not supposed to—"

Jack reached for her hand and squeezed it, still feeling a little breathless. He hoped his eyes showed his understanding.

"I don't want to give this up," Sam said firmly, licking her lips.

Nodding in sincere agreement, Jack opened his mouth to verbally reassure her, but he was overcome by a coughing fit and turned away, hunching over.

Sam gently thumped his back until the fit subsided, her hand still resting between his shoulder-blades until he collapsed back into the couch. "Easy." She encouraged him to relax and got up to get a blanket, draping it over him when she returned.

"What time is it?" Jack asked with his head back, eyes closed. He heard Sam turn on the TV.

"Just after six." Her hand moved to his shoulder. "How's your leg?"

"Not bad."

She was quiet for a little while, probably trying to figure out when he was due for his next round of painkillers. "I don't think I've said it yet, but…I love you, too."

A big grin tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth and he opened his eyes to look at her. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Sweet."

They spent the next few hours lounging on the couch together, watching movies and then later having cereal for dinner. By nine o'clock Jack was looking quite exhausted, struggling to stay awake, and Sam figured it was time she put him to bed. She got up slowly and held a hand out to halt him when he was about to do the same. "Wait here. Let me get your meds first, okay?"

Jack nodded drowsily and she quickly retrieved his painkillers and the pills for his chest congestion. After he'd taken them, Sam carefully helped Jack to his feet, pulling one arm across her shoulders and hanging onto his waist while he used a crutch under the other arm. Together they hobbled to his room where she pushed back the blankets and then deposited him gently on the bed.

"How's your leg feeling, now?" Sam glanced at his injured limb, the brace bulging beneath his sweatpants.

"S'okay," he murmured sleepily.

Sam adjusted the pillows at his back and then carefully moved one under his leg to elevate it. "Do you need to ice it again?"

He frowned and shivered, shaking his head and waving a hand. "No. No ice. Cold."

She smiled a little. "Okay, okay. No ice." Pulling the blankets over him, Sam turned out the lights and then started to leave the room until Jack called her back.

"_Where y'goin'?"_ His voice was low and sounded a little worried.

Sam felt a warmth spread through her that and paused in the doorway. "I'm just going to change for bed and I'll come back, alright?"

"_Hm." _He nodded, and with the light from the hallway, Sam could see his eyes closing as he relaxed. _"Hurry...back."_

She laughed as she stepped into the hall. Sam slipped into the spare room where her things were and quickly changed into some warm flannel lounge pants and a light blue Henley thermal top.

Jack's eyes were still closed as she sidled up to the bed and crawled under the covers at his left side, curling up to him. He still had to lie with some pillows at his back to help with his breathing and the chest congestion, but he seemed at least somewhat comfortable. His breaths were low and even and Sam thought he was asleep until she slid her hand over his stomach and heard him hum contentedly.

"_I don't want this to go away,"_ Sam whispered as she buried her face in the crook of Jack's shoulder, inhaling his scent.

"It won't," he rumbled, putting an arm around her.

Suddenly feeling a little insecure, Sam bit down on her lower lip, her fingers pulling slightly at his t-shirt. _"What about when we have to go back to work?"_

Jack sighed softly, a grunt escaping as his chest rose and fell. _"We'll worry about that…later."_

Sam nodded into his shoulder, but she was still worrying about it _now. _

.

**Sunday**

**(Last Day of Vacation)**

Jack was already up, sitting on the living room couch wrapped in a blanket and sipping a cup of coffee by the time Sam woke. She smiled down at him from the top of the steps, thinking of how she'd found him similarly on Thanksgiving morning. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, giving the entire room a cozy, warm feeling.

Having no desire for coffee just yet, Sam padded into the sunken lounge and moved to the couch, smiling when Jack silently lifted his blanket for her and sliding up against his side. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, his warm flannel robe feeling soft against her skin, and smelling purely of him. "I really don't want this to end," she murmured.

"Who says it has to?" Jack rumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

She rested a hand on his chest, sliding it beneath his robe, her fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt. "I don't mean us, I just mean… Well, the holiday weekend. Daniel's coming back tomorrow, and I have to return to work." Sam had finally given in to her desires to be with Jack, pushing away all other concerns and deciding to allow herself to be happy, even if it had to be in secret. She deserved this. _They _deserved this.

"So?"

Sam pursed her lips. "_So…_ I can't stay here anymore. Daniel will be around. If I stay it'll be too obvious—"

"I'll retire," Jack said suddenly, his arm around her giving her a squeeze.

She sighed softly. "Jack, no."

"I won't ask you to give up your career," he told her, leaning forward a little to set his mug on the coffee table. Jack paused and cleared his throat when she didn't say anything. "And I know you don't want to have to lie to our friends, to General Hammond."

Biting her lip, she nodded against him, her cheek still pressed to his shoulder, and fingers briefly clenching and unclenching against his chest.

Jack sighed. "I don't wanna lie, either, but I don't know what else to do."

"You didn't ask me to give up my career, Jack," she said, finally lifting her head from his shoulder and leaning back so she could see his face. He was still sick, she had to remember, and he looked tired. Sam wondered how much sleep he'd really gotten. "And maybe I won't have to," she added.

His brows knit together. "What do you mean?"

With sudden clarity, Sam realized she'd come up with the perfect solution. "I can talk to General Hammond about taking a civilian position. I'll come clean about my feelings for you and if I'm not in your chain of command, we can still pursue a relationship. I still might be able to join SG-1 in the field."

"Sam, I dunno…" he began uneasily. "You'd still be expected to take orders from me."

"So what? If the General okays it, we can handle it," she continued, confidence spurring her on. "The Jack and Sam in that alternate reality that Daniel went to through the Quantum Mirror made it work. Who says we can't? He was the base CO and she was a civilian doctor under his command."

Jack sighed softly with a small smile, relenting. He rubbed her shoulder and nodded. "Okay. Okay, we'll give it a try. But we'll _both _talk to Hammond, alright?"

Sam nodded, smiling back at him.

Jack coughed, rubbed his chest, and then cleared his throat. "But if it doesn't work, I retire."

"Jack—"

"Sam," he shot back. "Please. If it doesn't work, let me do this."

Pursing her lips, she agreed, leaning forward again to hug him and kiss his cheek. "Okay." Sam sat beside him a while longer before deciding to get up and get herself some coffee.

She returned with her caffeinated drink as well as a glass of water for Jack and his pills. He took them with little resistance, letting her know that he hadn't taken anything yet this morning. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah." He sipped at his water again. "Chest isn't so bad now."

"What about your leg?" Sam wanted to know. The injured leg, still in the brace, was hidden beneath the blankets and propped up on the coffee table.

"Not too bad," he assured her without moving it.

"I'll help you get the brace off when you get dressed. We'll check for swelling then."

Jack just nodded, obviously not relishing the thought of having to do that. He grimaced and stared toward the window.

Sam followed his gaze. It was snowing again. Part of her really hoped that a bad storm was on its way so that Daniel wouldn't be able to make it over in the morning and she would be forced to stay with Jack for longer. No matter what happened, she wasn't going to regret the last few days, and if Hammond or the Joint Chiefs, or whoever had a say in the matter didn't agree with their plan, it didn't matter. Sam knew that she wasn't going to let go of Jack, and he wasn't about to let go of her. They still had Plan B.

"Sam?" Jack murmured after a while, tiredly relaxing with his head on her shoulder.

"Yeah?" she responded slowly with a smile, finding the drowsy tone to his voice endearing.

"I'm glad you stayed."

Taking in a deep breath, Sam nodded. "Me too, Jack," she said softly with feeling, giddy with the fact that their lives were now changed for the better. She turned her head to capture his lips in a chaste, but loving kiss. "Me, too."

-The End-


End file.
